Voiceless Choiceless -- Slick's Squad (Jester's story)
by reulte
Summary: A companion to Scars - Slick's Squad (Chopper). The path of Jester through the three years of the Clone Wars from Christophsis to post-Order 66. Rated T for language, violence, and implied sexual content.
1. Hidden Enemy - Christophsis

**Christophsis – The Hidden Enemy**

"Where are they, Jester?" Slick's voice was low and somber but Jester began shaking, the gun rag tightly gripped in his hand, his fingers white as he scoured the barrel of his blaster with jerky strokes.

"M-me-me," Jester began but Slick cut Jester's stuttered word with his own harsh voice.

"Hurry up, Jester, I don't have all day." The sergeant's aggravation was evident.

"Me-mess." The word rushed out of Jester. "Mess, s-sir."

"Very good," Slick smiled though his eyes were cold. "I knew you could do it, Jester."

He spoke as though Jester was a backwards cadet and Jester, red with shame, bowed his head to stare angrily at the black metal of his blaster under his fingers.

This stuttering was new, within the last few days. If he had ever stuttered on Kamino, it would have meant reconditioning. Jester forced himself to breathe evenly. His fingers stopped shaking and his movements became smooth on the blaster though his thoughts were still in turmoil.

After a moment, Slick turned and left their barracks. Jester had no doubt there was a smug smile on his lips but he hadn't glanced up to see. As the door closed behind Slick, Jester sobbed and leaned his forehead against the barrel of his deece.

What had happened? What was happening?

Coming out of Kamino Jester had been fourth of the six-man electronics specialty squad. Sketch had been the best of them with the highest cumulative scores of the entire squad and he was, declared their trainer, destined for great things. Sketch's brother-by-choice, Punch was almost as good and had the knack of picking up what a sergeant's second would know simply in anticipation of Sketch becoming a sergeant. Sketch laughingly always said the reason he was so good was to keep ahead of Punch.

Sketch didn't laugh as much anymore, Gus said humor wasn't a quality of a good trooper though everyone knew the words had come straight from Sergeant Slick.

Zev had been third, but he had died the first day, not even stepping on Christophsis itself but snipered as they arrived and falling from the LAAT to land in a crumpled heap of shattered, shiny armor. That had hurt, Jester and Zev had occasionally comforted each other; sometimes as lovers but more usually by simply touching or talking until long after 'lights out'. Jester regretted Zev's death far more for the friend than for the lover.

Then came Jester, fourth slot with his scores all over the place; sometimes top marks, sometime earning a frown from the trainers but a decent average. Jester always comforted himself with the thought that he hadn't pushed himself to do his best all the time.

Twenty-three had been a new addition shortly before they departed Kamino. He was a sullen, taciturn, scarred survivor and they hadn't accurately figured his placement before being assigned to Christophsis but he'd seen battle and occasionally offered good advice in spite of being so quiet so they put him ahead of Gus. He was fifth slot until the death of Zev when he'd moved up to fourth and Jester to third.

Gus had been last man. Certainly acceptable – he had passed all the tests Kamino gave – but not quite as sharp as the rest of them.

Jester thought that was ok, no one could always be better than everyone else. For all the emphasis the trainers had put on their scores, the differences between them were miniscule. And what was a squad for if not to cover for each other?

Twenty-three had moved into third slot easily enough after a week on Christophsis; he had experience and his hesitation disappeared in battle. Jester thought that if the quiet trooper had tried, he would have been first or second man but Twenty-three didn't put himself between Sketch and Punch. For a short time, the squad thought first Sketch then Twenty-three or maybe Punch would make the best second to their new sergeant. All three clones were superlative troopers though in different ways. But, somehow, Gus had been chosen.

Jester grimaced, his fingers slowing in their long strokes on the weapon. Somehow, that hadn't been right and Jester couldn't figure out why Sergeant Slick had chosen Gus. Sergeant's second was always the sergeant's choice but you wanted someone to look out for the troopers also. You wanted someone you could trust to get you out of tight spots, someone who would and could back you up. You wanted someone almost as good as your sergeant and that wasn't Gus.

Inspecting his blaster, Jester gave a nod as his lips tightened. There'd be no demerit for a dirty blaster this time. It was the first thing he did now, coming back from any type of battle or even just his daily rounds. Making sure his blaster was clean and ready for the next battle was his priority; before going to the mess, before sleep, before a visit to the head. Jester hadn't been wounded yet but if he were, he'd still clean his blaster before going to medical. Sometimes he had odd dreams of getting wounded and reaching for his blaster shouting, 'Wait, wait! I have to clean the blaster first!' as he bled over the white armor of the others. Odd dreams, though nothing like, and far better than, Twenty-three's nightmares.

Setting the weapon aside, not just on the bunk but in its case and inspection-ready, Jester cleaned up his equipment then glanced around his bunk for anything out of place; anything Sergeant Slick might decide required a demerit. Stretching the muscles of his neck and shoulders, Jester decided that he wasn't hungry but caf sounded good. He'd probably be at a table by himself. So far, the other troopers of the 212th didn't appear to be very friendly – not like it had been back in the barracks on Kamino with everyone eager and interested in new brothers and information. But maybe it was just that they'd lost only enough troopers to need replacements from Kamino and were already in groups of friends.

Or maybe it was just him they avoided.

The thought hit Jester as he walked the corridor to the mess and he paused, staring down the metal plates that substituted for a floor.

Punch and Sketch usually had opposite schedules and spent any free time together. They rarely welcomed intruders when they sat together in the mess, Twenty-three spent a lot of time doing extra duty for demerits and what the Sergeant called 'wasting time with inappropriate ideas' though Jester thought some of them were brilliant. When he wasn't standing extra duty, he sat alone in the back corner of the mess and that was where troopers went when they didn't want to be disturbed. Gus was usually shadowing Sergeant Slick or simply overseeing the troopers in Slick's stead. There wasn't a word he spoke that hadn't already been voiced by Sergeant Slick. Sometimes Jester wondered if Gus had a voice anymore.

Maybe the other troopers of the 212th did avoid him; he could see how Slick's squad might be seen as wanting privacy. Jester decided he'd ask one or two. He'd ask if they were avoiding him and the squad or did it just seem that way; and if they were avoiding him, then why? Maybe it was just something as innocuous like timing or thinking someone else had made friendly overtures.

As he made his way to the mess with curiosity burning in him to know the answer to his query, the new commander of the 212th gave orders over his helmet's comm unit. "Slick's squad, report immediately to quarters."

Rumor had it that Christophsis wasn't proceeding as quickly the Senate wished. Jester could have told them it was because they hadn't had a commander or captain, both troopers killed before he and the others had arrived, and their Jedi general hadn't really understood how military operations should go or how to inspire human troopers; how they'd only been a security force for the refugee camp with no clear-cut battlefield orders. Now they had a human Jedi general and a brother clone commander. Jester was optimistic that things would change very soon.

The planned attack from the two towers had been a good plan and only bad luck had ruined it. Although seeing the tactical droid on the roof had made Jester's mind pause and take another turn. Seeing that droid as Twenty-three tackled and rip off its head had whispered something in the back of Jester's mind.

It wasn't a good whisper, either.

Jester sighed and turned back towards the barracks. No caf or answers just yet. He hoped it wouldn't take too long – whatever it was the new commander wanted. More importantly, he hoped he could stay out of notice.

While Jester was glad they'd gotten a good commander, Sergeant Slick had told him Commander Cody was already going through trooper records, preparing to cull the _k'atinis_ from the 212th. Slick's measured look at Jester said he expected Jester to be one of the culls.

Jester wondered what happened to the inferior troopers. Were they sent back to Kamino for reconditioning? Given additional training? Sent off to another – less exacting – commander, someone with more lenient standards? Jester wondered when he'd gone from being third to being last in the squad; from being acceptable to being cull-worthy.

That had been the day he had started stuttering.

Not wanting to be the first trooper in the room under the exacting eyes of Commander Cody, Jester moved slowly down the hall back to the barracks. Unusually, Twenty-three.., Jester shook his head; he had named himself Chopper not too long ago. Chopper was first back and gave Jester a nod. Jester gave him a tentative half-smile; it appeared Chopper was in a – for him – good mood. He usually was when he took a souvenir and this time he'd gotten a droid head. Not that he'd been able to keep _that_ but it had been a magnificent move and Jester knew he'd also gotten something else.

There was a slight, contemptuous snort behind Jester and he slowed even more, allowing sergeant's second to move ahead of him.

Gus was no better than he'd been back on Kamino; when had he become better than Jester?

With a defeated sigh, Jester moved behind Gus and caught the movement of Punch and Sketch as they fell in behind him, not caring where they ended in the line of clones as long as they were together.

"No way they're capable of something like this." Sergeant Slick was speaking to Commander Cody and Captain Rex of the 501st, his voice pleading. The two officers had stern, hard faces

This didn't look good but it didn't seem like a conversation about winnowing the troops.

"Something like what?" Gus interrupted, as if he was a sergeant in his own right.

Slick glanced at the men of his squad. "You called them here?"

"Of course we did. We're getting to the bottom of this. Now." That was Captain Rex, head of the 501st and already developing into a legend among the clones after the tactics at Anoth and Bakura. He sounded like a hard trooper and Jester was sure there were no inferior clones in his company.

"Look, let me have a few minutes with them first. It's going to hit them hard…" Slick said in a low voice that went quieter.

"I don't think that's necessary. Your men are tough, right?" Commander Cody walked the line of men and Jester froze for a moment. Maybe it _was_ about culling unacceptable troopers. He could feel his heart race. He'd been good once; the bad scores had been because he'd gotten bored with training, because he was trying new and different tactics in the relative safety of training instead of waiting until he was actually in the field. He was good on the battlefield; he'd point that out to Commander Cody and ask – beg – for another chance. He wanted a good commander and Cody was reputed to be one of the best.

"Take a seat, gentlemen."

Jester, terrified as the Commander's eyes moved over him, moved to his bunk. He'd feel safer with his back against the wall. It wouldn't help if he was being culled but he'd _feel _safer.

"We have a turncoat in our midst," said Cody, "and we think it's one of you."

Jester looked down at the cement floor as he rubbed one hand over his other. That couldn't be right, Jester's brows drew down and his hand ached. He'd been fighting the wall again yesterday, not understanding why Slick had taken them to some makeshift civilian bar and done what he'd done to Chopper.

_A turncoat? A traitor?_ That didn't make any sense but at least it wasn't about being culled. Jester thought it through. A traitor? Not Sketch or Punch because then there'd be two traitors and you couldn't keep secrets like that. Not Chopper, for all that he was hurt and angry and picked up a few metal bits from the battlefield. Certainly not him. And that left only Gus or…

Jester glanced up, wondering what Slick's expression was and started in surprise when it was the captain of the 501st standing in front of him with Commander Cody at his side; both clones looking at him with harsh expectation.

"I… I don't know. I was doing the things I always do after a mission." Jester's right hand rubbed over his left fist as that stutter escaped. His hand hurt more than it should, more than the other times and he wondered if he should have seen one of the medics, wondered how many bones he'd broken this time.

"Things like what?" Rex stared at him. It was like staring into a mirror after battle. No mercy, no quarter; the captain's pupils were angry pinpricks in the brown of his eyes.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm just a little nervous." His eyes slid to the commander in dented armor with scratched yellow marks, marks Jester admired because they meant experience. "You're my C.O."

"Well, way I figure it, you tell the truth you've got nothing to be nervous about." The 501st captain's logic was reasonable, but Jester knew he'd stutter the next word and he pressed his lips tightly together.

Sergeant Slick yelled at him for the stutter. What would an angry captain do? What would his new commander do?

He'd be culled, rejected, and sent back to Kamino for sure.

"Jester is telling the truth." Sketch broke in and Jester almost passed out in relief.

"He cleans his weapon after every mission," Sketch continued. "First thing, every time. He's kind of obsessed that way."

"Is that right? You were cleaning your weapon?" asked Cody. He looked almost kind.

"Yes sir." Jester nodded as a knot in his throat loosened and his shoulders relaxed.

"Go on the computer while you were in here?" That was Cody again and it was a simple question. Cody waited for his answer.

"No sir. I didn't even power it up." Jester gestured vaguely toward the machine without moving his eyes from Commander Cody's face. "You can check."

_Don't cull me! Please, give me a chance._

"Show me your weapon," commanded Cody, holding out his hand and Jester confidently lifted the battle-ready blaster for inspection. Cody ran his fingers over the barrel.

Jester polished his blaster constantly. He had received a demerit for a dirty weapon from Slick almost as they'd left the battlefield, then another for insubordination when he had questioned the demerit. Commander Cody wouldn't find a dirty weapon.

"Yep. Freshly scrubbed." Cody glanced at Rex.

"The rag's over there in the corner." Jester gave a nod of his head toward the rag bin.

"Good man." said Cody as he handed back the weapon and Jester straightened at the praise, ready to follow this commander where ever he led.

Cody turned from Jester toward Punch and Sketch. "You, you were cleaning your weapon too?" He had gestured at Punch.

"No, I was hungry. I went back to the mess." Punch replied almost insolently.

Jester realized his questions were done for the moment though he knew there would be more until the traitor was discovered. They had to be wrong about a traitor in the squad and that would mean more questions, more details to go over.

Slick's interruption caught Jester's attention. "Captain, give me just a moment with them."

Jester frowned; that wasn't something Slick would normally say.

"No, it's okay sarge." Gus shifted slightly. "I've got nothing to hide. I was in the infirmary. Got banged up pretty good by one of those clankers. Med droid was fixing me up."

Jester shook his head. First Punch then Gus showing no respect to either the Commander or the Captain. He wanted to explain that their informality came from Sergeant Slick usually being informal around his squad but Jester remembered that Slick was never informal with him. Slick was strict in the rules with him, with Chopper; sometimes with Sketch and sometimes not. He was only relaxed and informal with his second and with Punch; sometimes with Sketch but Sketch couldn't count on it and had learned to never be relaxed around the sergeant.

Cody and Rex moved in front of Chopper on his rack. Chopper had one leg on his bunk, one on the floor, his head slightly down with that blank expression on his face, leaning against the wall… waiting, like so often, for a demerit.

"So, Chopper, old boy…"

Jester frowned as the 501st captain used Slick's favorite words. _Don't do that, Captain_, whispered Jester, although possibly only in his own mind.

"I was in the mess hall."

Jester knew Chopper spent every off-duty moment in the mess except when he wandered into the barracks late to roll into his rack. Chopper avoided them all, especially Sergeant Slick, particularly after the incident at the bar.

"No, you weren't!" The outburst was from Sketch and Jester stood in surprise then realized Chopper would have been doing something with his new acquisition.

"You…I mean… you." Sketch stood and he looked almost apologetically at Chopper because they all knew what Chopper must have been doing. Chopper's acquisitions were no secret among the squad.

Chopper sighed. "I was hiding at the south exit. I didn't want anyone to see me string these together." He pulled the fingers from edge of bunk, three droid fingers strung on a wire.

Jester's heart twisted, as it did every time he knew Chopper had collected something else from the battlefield. What did Chopper gained from those small trinkets? Chopper gazed into the eyes of the command clones and Jester thought his face relaxed, that he was finally going to explain.

"I always knew there was something deficient about you." For a moment Jester thought it had been Slick speaking, but it was Gus.

Chopper's lips became a tight line as he turned from his rack, away from the others and set his feet to the floor. He sat on the edge of his bunk. Jester could see the side of his jaw grind in angry frustration.

"This isn't good, Chopper." Slick took a step toward Chopper and Jester stared at the sergeant, some half-hidden thought in his mind trying to be noticed. Slick sounded extraordinarily pleased.

Jester saw and knew, with terrible trepidation, how it would play out. He shook his head but no one was watching him as the drama with Chopper played on. While he knew Chopper wasn't the traitor, it was nothing he could prove.

"…taking forbidden items from a battlefield." Slick paused and Jester knew he was choosing his words with care. "I know. I put up with the attitude because you have skill."

Jester took a step forward wanting to do something. Gus, staring at Chopper, had an expression of arrogant disgust, Punch one of pity and Sketch one of pain. Jester could tell from the purr in his voice that there was triumphant satisfaction on Slick's face and he suddenly realized who the traitor was. Suddenly realized why experienced Chopper received the most demerits and punishment duties, suddenly realized why the brothers Sketch and Punch had different schedules, suddenly realized why he stuttered, and suddenly pitied Gus more than anyone he could think of, even poor dead Zev.

A clone trooper worried about what he was doing wrong wouldn't be looking at someone else. Slick had made his actions invisible to his squad.

"…your whole character's in question here," Slick continued.

"Wait, no. Hang on. I'm no spy!" Chopper faced his commander and Jester wanted Cody to listen. He wanted to say something but his voice wouldn't work. Jester's stutters had lodged in his throat and wouldn't leave his mouth.

Then Chopper spoke again, facing the sergeant. "Maybe you should talk, sir. Tell them where you went." Chopper said, confronting Slick. Slick's expression showed his surprise and Jester wondered why Slick was so shocked then remembered that Chopper had stopped showing Slick how good he really was when his only reward was extra duty.

Jester remembered the last time Chopper had shown how good a trooper he was when he won against Slick and the rest of the squad.

"_It's just a friendly sparring match among the squad," Slick had said and they'd taken him at his word. The sergeant was good but not the best. In the end, it was Chopper and Sketch battling it out for supremacy with Chopper finally getting the definitive upper hand. He had smiled and promised everyone a rematch during their next training session with a rare, anticipatory chuckle. Yet before the end of the day, he'd receive three demerits from Sergeant Slick. It was one of the few conversations Chopper initiated with the squad._

"_I don't think the sergeant likes being beaten." Then he'd pulled on his bucket and gone on to his punishment of night duty guarding the trash behind the kitchens from scavengers, both human and animal._

"Sergeant!" It was Commander Cody's voice with sharp scrutiny and Jester blinked as the past faded into the present.

"What did you mean, 'till the Jedi come back'?" Cody asked in hard speculation. "How did you know the Jedi were gone?

"I really wish you hadn't noticed that, sir." Slick's voice was soft and genuinely regretful. Jester didn't see what happened, but Sergeant Slick was over the bunk and out the door while both Commander Cody and Chopper were reeling back.

"It's Slick?"

"Slick's the traitor?"

Commander Cody and Captain Rex rushed out the door after Slick, and Jester realized the stuttered words no longer stuck in his throat.

Everything between all of them had changed in that instant. Gus kept looking at Chopper, confusion and guilt in his eyes. Punch opened his mouth wanting to say something, but always letting his mouth close because there was nothing to say.

"No one else knows yet." Jester's voice was soft, his hand rubbing over his fist. It hurt but maybe it wasn't as broken as he thought; maybe he wasn't as broken as he thought. He'd go to medical first thing this was all done and tell them he'd been beating a stone wall with his fist.

Maybe none of the squad was irredeemably broken.

Technically, he was the least of the squad but everything had just gone confused, like in battle when someone crucial died and some other clone had to take his place yet lacking some vital piece of information. The all looked shell-shocked. Still, he gave them the opening to lead.

Sketch supplied another thought. "Slick might…" Sketch raised his hands understanding the chaos that could ensue if Slick wasn't immediately captured and neutralized. Jester thought his next words might be some order and he was prepared to follow Sketch, prepared to say 'yes, sir, squad leader Sketch'. But Sketch only stared at Punch.

After a few moments of silent shock in the barracks, Jester spoke up. "Gus." Jester called his attention away from Chopper as he found some words. "I'll tell the deck officer about Slick. You and Chopper follow the commander and captain to assist as necessary. They won't need to explain anything to you."

Both Chopper and Gus nodded then moved out the barracks at his order.

Jester turned to Sketch and Punch. "Sketch, Punch, go to the mess and ask around; see if anyone has seen Slick, where he might be headed. But keep what happened quiet." Then Jester grabbed his helmet and was out the door giving them no chance to object to his orders.

* * *

A/N - And so we begin Jester's story; how he fared from being part of Sergeant Slick's squad, his path from Christophsis to post-Order 66.

This story is interwoven with "Scars" which has been renamed Slick's Squad (Chopper) - Scars. Jester's story will not be as long as Choppers.

At the moment, updates will be sporadic due to work constraints.

Disclaimer: Star Wars: The Clone Wars belongs to George Lucas and/or Disney. I receive no monetary compensation, only the pleasure of writing and sharing.

reulte


	2. Board of Inquiry

BOARD OF INQUIRY

Jester's eyes stung as he sat at the table in front of the Board of Inquiry and he took a moment to compose both his thoughts and his words. His right hand lightly rubbed over the flex-cast of his left. They'd been interviewing him for several hours and the formality of the occasion has been worn away by hard emotion and the seriousness of the situation, by the intimacy of the questions. He'd gone from 'CT-4646' or 'trooper' to 'Jester'.

It was almost over.

"It wasn't right, Commander. Not what he did. But we didn't…" Jester spread his hands, nearly knocking over the water glass in his anxiety, and shook his head. "I don't want to say we didn't know better, but it all started being good advice and quoted rules"

He glanced up into Commander Cody's face; it was hard and stern as he tried to remain impartial but Slick had been his sergeant. Never mind that Cody had only arrived a short time ago; he had vetted his sergeants and Slick had passed Commander Cody's personal interview. That would be bitter for the commander.

"Then it got hard." Jester glanced down at the table and ran his thumbs along the edge of it trying to remember a good example and found one. "Like when Punch requested some gear repair training he had missed on Kamino. It was denied." Jester licked his lips but didn't miss the Commander's eyes widen slightly in surprise then his face tightened another increment in angry disbelief. Jester thought that was good; Cody seemed to be the type of commander who encouraged maintaining certifications and cross-training.

"According to Slick, by Regulation 4.13.4, he'd been assigned and so had not missed any training because the regs said he wouldn't have been assigned without the training. When Punch asked the sergeant to help him fix the lateral gyroscope in his deece, the sergeant quoted regulation 8.83.73 sub a – 'all troopers shall be solely responsible for their gear'. He forbade any of us to fix the 'scope for Punch. Later, he got dinged for it."

Jester glanced at the civilian Prince Organa then General Kenobi, noting their slightly confused expressions. "That is, Punch received a demerit, for having a broken lateral gyroscope." Jester shrugged. "Which hadn't actually affected his targeting anyway so Slick would have had no way of knowing it was broken if Punch hadn't told him earlier."

"Fascinating," said General Kenobi, his fingers stroking his beard. Jester noted it was the same color as a clone's eyes. "What happened?"

"Sir?" Jester tipped his head to one side, wondering exactly what the general was asking, what specific part of everything that had happened did he want to know.

"About the lateral gyroscope," clarified the General. "Was it ever fixed? If so, how? Did Punch receive further demerits?" He didn't ask if Slick objected to sending his men into danger with insufficient equipment. That had been established early in the interview.

"Oh," Jester leaned back a bit in the chair, sitting straighter. "Chopper's deece developed a broken 'scope also. I think he did it on purpose." Jester gave a shrug and almost smiled. " When he fixed it, he called Punch over to watch him fix it. He didn't say a word beyond 'Punch, come here'." Jester gave a slight grin. "In front of Slick. Chopper liked to outthink Slick." His face fell. "Not that it helped; he got two demerits later in the day. Chopper, not Punch."

General Kenobi nodded thoughtfully, his forehead furrowed. Senator-Prince Organa's face was drawn and he was shaking his head sorrowfully. Commander Cody only stared forward, a gaze above Jester's head, with his lips tightly compressed. Captain Rex, his face a medley of mottled bruising, had narrowed eyes, staring at Jester. His face, behind the battle-marks, was angrily tight; he'd lost too many men on Teth.

Jester was concerned that Captain Rex would make it hard for him. Captain Rex hurt for his lost men on Teth and he wanted someone to take his anger on, someone he could beat with his fists until the pain went away. Jester hoped the captain could be fair in spite of his suffering; he'd given himself enough of a handicap with his hand.

General Kenobi gestured lightly at Jester and he felt _something_, like a quiet breeze, brush along his wounded hand. "The medics didn't approve of your broken hand and specifically told me to question you about it." He shifted in his chair. "In fact, they said they wouldn't certify you as battle-ready until I or Commander Cody overrode their recommendation to return you to Kamino."

Jester bowed his head in shame. Self-destructive behavior was highly discouraged on Kamino, punishable by reconditioning or, more likely, flash-drill retraining.

"So much didn't make sense," Jester glanced at his left hand where a thin flex-cast curled around his hand and wrist. "I'd fight the wall when I didn't understand why or how or what." He sucked in his lower lip then blew out a breath. "I'd go out and fight the barracks wall by the south exit. I'd slam my body and my hand against the wall in frustrated misery until the physical pain was greater than the mental uncertainty." He looked into General Kenobi's face. He had kind eyes; it might be an illusion but it was easier talking to those eyes than looking into the faces of the two clones at the table. He didn't want to see Commander Cody's scorn, not with what he planned to ask if they didn't send him to Kamino.

"I realize now it was all to keep our attention off him. How could we notice his treason if we were so wrapping up in our own shortcomings? If we were trying to deal with demerits and double duty like Chopper, or having opposite shifts from your best brother like Sketch and Punch. And Gus," Jester shook his head. "He tried so hard to be a good sergeant's second but you need a good sergeant for that and Gus didn't know any different."

Jester stared down at his thumbs, so full of sorrow for his squad brothers he felt like crying. Slowly he lifted his head, once again to General Kenobi. "What have you done with them?" His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

It was Captain Rex who answered. "Chopper is being court-martialed. The others have been re-assigned; Gus to the 41st Elite, Punch to the 224th on Mimban, and Sketch to the Coruscant Guard." He paused for a moment. "We didn't realize Punch and Sketch were brothers. Neither mentioned it."

Jester lifted a shoulder in a near shrug. "Slick made it somehow shameful, as if having a brother meant you were weak and needed…" He let the sentence trail into nothing as he thought of Punch and Sketch worlds away from each other. They'd been brothers since the beginning. He waited a moment then spoke into the silence. "Is there anything else, sirs? Any other questions?"

Senator-Prince Bail Organa looked down the table at the others. "I don't believe so."

"No," murmured General Kenobi. "Cody? Captain Rex?"

Commander Cody was as still as a statue, his face still pained. "No. Thank you, trooper."

Captain Rex, at the opposite end of the table from Senator Organa also looked down the table and there must have been some signal because he turned his battered and bruised face back to Jester and began speaking. "We are re-assigning you…"

"I'd rather stay with the 212th, sir." Jester's voice was firm as he interrupted a superior officer and he absently wondered where his stutter had gone. He hadn't stuttered since the night Slick had turned traitor; since he had told the others what to do and they'd done it.

Captain Rex blinked in surprise at the interruption, then turned his head slightly toward the others.

"It's for your benefit," explained Senator-Prince Organa to Jester. "We're sending you and the others to new generals and commanders; new troopers who don't know you; who won't associate you with any wrongdoing."

Jester shook his head. "We're not traitors and sending the squad away will make troopers think we are. There are already rumors about Slick's squad."

"This entire escapade with Slick has been classified," Commander Cody leaned forward, his arms on the long table in front of the Board, his hands loosely clasped together. Under the hardness, he looked tired and injured as if he'd been broken by his Slick's treason, as though it was his fault. "Rumors are all anyone will hear; nothing will be confirmed or denied. But the 212th knows enough of the truth in this rumor to make the troopers unhappy to have you as one of them."

Jester nodded, understanding. They were re-assigning the squad for the troopers' protection, not to get rid of troublesome troopers even if that's when their new generals and commanders might think. "Perhaps it will be an uphill battle, sir. Perhaps it will be one battle I can't win. But I think the fight will be worth it."

He stared into the Commander's eyes, challenging him. "I want to stay with the 212th so they'll know that the traitor was an aberration. So they can see me every day and realize that I am not Slick; so they will realize that we – Gus, Sketch, Chopper, Punch and myself – are loyal troopers and good brothers. Our reputations have been destroyed by being under Slick's command; but I want the honor of rebuilding them among my first company."

Cody glanced away, slightly down and slightly toward General Kenobi, granting him the decision as if he was afraid to mak it. Jester's attention followed Cody's to the Jedi general. He looked into the general's face and saw compassion and sadness.

"The 212th needs this…" Jester shrugged, looking for the right word and saw it in Cody's haggard face. "The 212th needs this healing as much as any of us."

"It won't be easy," General Kenobi shifted back in the chair, relaxing slightly, his arms over his chest, one hand lightly stroking his beard as he contemplated the trooper.

Jester chuckled. "I'm a clonetrooper, sir. I wouldn't know how to handle 'easy'."

* * *

A/N - So Jester is now part of the 212th. Next comes Jester meeting his new sergeant and squad.

Enjoy, read and review.


	3. A New Company, A New Squad

A NEW COMPANY, A NEW SQUAD

The ostracism was worse now than it had been before. He didn't have to ask if it only seemed as they were avoiding him; now he knew.

There'd been no unoccupied table so Jester had taken his tray and moved to where three brothers sat - not from the same squad either, so he wouldn't be intruding on 'squad business'. They had nodded at him, acknowledgement that there was nowhere else to sit, but had quickly finished eating with no conversation, picked up their trays for disposal, and departed.

Pushing his food around the plate, not really hungry, Jester's eyes flicked to a nearby table where five troopers sat laughing. Even as he looked them over, one noticed him watching and nudged his brother. Slowly, the laughter faded. The one who had seen him picked up his tray - mostly empty - and moved toward the disposal bin. After a moment's thought, he turned and sat at a different table to finish his meal; a table with vode a bit further from where Jester sat. After a short time, the others joined him.

No, it was intentional.

Jester set down the fork and pushed his tray away, not really hungry anymore. A few moments more and Jester pulled on his bucket, disposing of the meal he hadn't eaten and moved to the duty office to find his post for the evening. He hadn't yet had his courtesy call on General Kenobi or Commander Cody. He hadn't been assigned to a squad yet so he was probably going onto another shift of guard duty around the refugee camp.

Orders had come from the highest levels to keep Slick's treason quiet. Jester thought keeping everything secret simply made it all worse, simply exacerbated the rumors. Of course there were rumors; you couldn't keep something like the exploding weapons depot, Slick's arrest, and the 501st then the 212th heading to Teth, quiet from everyone. Too many brothers knew just a little of the puzzle and were trying to understand what it all meant. There were too many questions and, if no one provided accurate answers... then rumor would serve.

It was quiet as Jester made his rounds. The refugees were contentious with each other during the day, but Christophsis was cold in the evenings and the people tended to stay in small family groups.

_Like squads_, he thought. Jester observed a woman cuddling a child in her coat as a youngling brought them one of the food packs and sat with them, facing the woman, opening the pack to share.

_He can guard her back and she, his. So much like a squad of brothers._ Jester wondered, momentarily, if they had ever been in the Christophsis military or if the GAR military orders came from the habits of a million peoples.

_The Kaminoans said it was trained efficiency but why is it efficient? Is it because these actions are what people do under normal circumstances? Is it efficient because it doesn't need to be explained?_

Jester shook his head and turned, continuing on his rounds. _Sergeant Slick wouldn't have approved of me thinking about it, but there are similarities in squad dynamics that mimic family dynamics._

It was early in the morning, the crystal buildings starting to glow blue-purple in the nascent light of dawn, when Jester went off-duty, his relief giving him a nod and a jerk of a hand gesture that meant 'you're off', but no words.

Beneath his helmet, Jester sighed in loneliness. _I've chosen this_, he told himself often. As Jester was trudging back to the near-empty barracks, its troopers stretched thinly over Christophsis, Senator Organa saw him and gestured for him to stop - a soft, gentle gesture befitting the citizen-prince he was - then quickly finished some conversation he'd been having with several of the refugees who moved back towards the temporary structures as Senator Organa moved quickly to where Jester waited at his command.

After a quick, scanning glance that seemed a purely natural movement, the senator spoke in a quietly intense voice. "He's gone, Trooper Jester. Coruscant for interrogation and execution."

"They won't get much information, sir," Jester replied. "We're programmed against interrogation." Tired as he was, Jester kept his gaze shifting over the buildings and rubble; he may have been technically off-duty, but Senator Organa was high on the CIS wish list.

Senator Organa made a simple but elegant gesture with his hand. "And it probably isn't as procedurally ordinary as my words made it sound."

"No, sir. A traitor among soldiers trained since birth for the sole purpose of following orders? Definitely not ordinary." Jester's eyes were still searching and he saw a small glint of metal where there'd been only rubble. "Move, sir, move," he shouted as he pushed against the senator's arm and slipped his armored body between the senator and the sniper droid, firing his blaster. "Take cover!"

Propelled by his words as much as that shove, Senator Organa moved swiftly without hesitation or questions, running low and ducking behind one of the legs of a beetle tank.

"813-vector 4," Jester shouted the coordinates in his helmet, "Sniper on one." He didn't bother yelling his designation. That wouldn't make backup appear any faster. He back-stepped, still firing, as he saw a squad of B1 droids come from behind the sniper. Jester pushed off the toe of his boot in a quick side-movement, fired twice, then ran the few steps to where the senator pressed himself against the metal tank.

"I'll cover, you back 20 paces to the next tank," ordered Jester.

"You follow." It didn't seem like an order but it was certainly more than a question."

"Yes sir. Move, now!" Jester stepped to fire, again interposing his body between man he was protecting and the B1s quickly converging on him and Senator Organa. Then there were the blue blasts of Republic deeces coming from behind him and backup was there. The B1s were quickly disposed of, though the sniper droid had escaped.

"Sir," it was Sergeant Barlex who, with a quick gesture, had his squad surrounding Organa and Jester. "Are you alright, sir?"

It was a question with an obvious answer as Senator Organa stood and dusted imaginary debris from the cape slung over his shoulder.

"Yes, thanks to this observant trooper." His fingers indicated Jester.

There was a moment of silence. For an ordinary trooper, there would have been an accolade from the sergeant. 'Good work, trooper' or perhaps 'I'll note this in your files, CT' but to Jester there were no such words and the embarrassing silence was broken by the senator.

"I'd appreciate your escort to my quarters," he tilted his head slightly.

"Of course, sir," broke in Barlex, "Gust, Herf, escort...'

But Senator Organa had already reached out and touched Jester on the gauntlet, making his choice obvious. "If you'll lead the way, trooper."

With Jester leading, they were halfway to the senator's quarters before he spoke.

"I hope that doesn't make it worse."

"I don't think so, sir." Jester wanted to say he didn't think it could get worse but he knew he was probably wrong.

Although the senator had a look of curiosity on his face as he looked at Jester, he said nothing more and Jester walked at his side until they were under cover in the building that served as barracks, mess, and offices of the 212th leadership. The corridor split and Jester turned left, toward the barracks room empty of anyone but him, while the senator turned right, towards the officers' offices and General Kenobi's quarters.

"Thank you, Jester, for saving my life." Senator Organa had a good voice, a strong voice. He reached out his hand, so obviously to shake Jester's.

Slick had said only weaklings and cowards said 'thank you' because they could not do things and so depended on others like parasites. Slick said 'thank you' were words that demeaned the person who spoke them. He had also said that civilians disdained and sneered at troopers and clones.

Jester slipped off the gauntlet and glove covering his hand and held it out in reciprocation. Senator Organa had a strong, capable hand.

"How did you know it was me?" Jester asked, ready for a refusal. He'd heard somewhere that royalty didn't answer questions but he'd been taught that clones were identical - that civilians couldn't tell them apart even with the thousand little idiosyncrasies that another trooper could easily read.

"Partially your armor which is uncolored, partially the way you walked and partially…" The senator pointed at Jester's right hand, gently stroking over his wounded left.

Jester nodded but didn't know what to say to that, so he saluted. Senator Organa gave him a nod and turned.

"Thank you, sir." Jester spoke softly but the senator heard him.

"You're welcome, Jester, and thank you."

# # #

The next morning Jester had his courtesy call on General Kenobi; just the usual chat as an introduction, all low-key.

A courtesy call was supposed to be the trooper introducing himself to his general, telling about any past experience and training but General Kenobi already knew everything about Jester so they actually talked a small bit about General Kenobi's own past.

That had surprised Jester. Both General Kenobi's willingness to share that information and the information itself. Jester had never before given any thought to a Jedi's beginning; so often it seemed as if they sprang, full-grown out of the Temple. He'd never thought of any Jedi as impetuous or clumsy but General Kenobi admitted to both those faults.

"I was always dropping things," he had intoned solemnly with his fingers stroking his beard but there'd been a sparkle in his eyes then he chuckled at Jester's expression. "Though I've outgrown those, of course."

It had been a good introduction and, before Jester left the General's office, Kenobi had leaned forward and spoken with deadly seriousness. "What happened with Sergeant Slick," he paused for only a moment. "If you ever see it again; with the 212th or any other company, with civilians or troopers, you let me know. I don't care about the circumstances or reasons or excuses. You let me know."

The Jedi had tapped himself on the chest. "No reports, no requesting a meeting, no going through your sergeant or captain or commander. You come and see me immediately."

Jester had nodded slowly, "I will let you know, sir, if I even suspect it is happening."

His courtesy call later the same day with Commander Cody had been slightly different. The door to Cody's office had been open and Jester tapped on the wall to let the commander know he was there.

Cody had looked up, raising his head slowly and leaning back slightly in the chair. If anything, his expression of brittle stone seemed to harden as he gestured the trooper into his office.

Jester saluted then stood at attention in front of Cody's desk.

"I wish you hadn't asked to stay with the 212th Jester," were Cody's first words, spoken in a hard voice. He still looked haggard. "We would have gotten you a good posting."

"I know, sir. I noticed the others went to companies with clone commanders; commanders with good reputations for taking care of their men; Fox, Gree, Top". Jester gave a brief smile. "You're in that group as well, sir. A commander who takes care of his men."

Commander Cody nodded absently, his mind on darker thoughts. "And I am concerned that I cannot take care of you, Jester. There isn't a sergeant who wants you after what happened with Slick. No trooper who wants you in their squad."

Cody turned his face toward the small window; it looked out onto the weapons depot, now a blackened mass of spiked wreckage though troopers were going through it to find anything salvageable. "They don't know the half of it and I can't tell them." Then the commander was quiet, remembering dead troopers. Jester stood in front of the commander's desk simply waiting until Commander Cody had turned to face him once again. "I'll see what I can do, Jester." He picked up the stylus and tapped it several times on the desk. "I know you're electronics and computer technician…"

Jester shook his head. "Sir, I'd rather join a line squad for now if it's all the same to you."

Cody was silent, watching Jester. Normally, a command clone could make a trooper nervous by simply not speaking. Normally, a trooper would start talking. Jester had done that when they'd come to interview the squad but this time Commander Cody spoke into the silence first.

"Why?"

"Slick had us convinced that we were special because we were technician troopers." Jester dropped his head to the floor. "I want to be just ground-pounder for a while, sir. I want to be treated normally. I don't want to think I'm special or different."

Cody had nodded as he made a note on the datapad. "I'll see what I can do, Jester but if I need your skills, you will go with a specialty squad."

# # #

Still, Jester looked around the mess semi-hopefully; trying to catch someone's eyes, a silent invitation to their table or to join him. But they avoided his searching glances. He wondered who Cody would assign him to and how his new squad-brothers would react to him. From his experience in the mess, it wouldn't be good.

Jester sighed again and bent his head to the food on his plate. He had asked for this battle but now he wasn't sure he could do this.

"How long have you been here?" It was Commander Cody's second in command, Sergeant Wooley, and Jester stood to attention.

Wooley gave a small gesture for Jester to relax and repeated his question. "How long have you been with the 212th?"

Sergeant Wooley was new also; he'd come in with Commander Cody within the last two weeks.

"Local time; one month and fifteen days, sir. Straight from Kamino to Christophsis."

Wooley reached over and tapped Jester's plain helmet. "Then why isn't your armor marked?"

Jester swallowed. "My sergeant didn't allow…"

"I'm your sergeant now and I'm asking; why isn't your helmet marked."

Jester gave a hesitant grin. The commander's second as his sergeant? That could be good, but was it only because the commander had ordered it?

"Because supply is closed during lunch?"

"And when will you seam your armor?" Wooley had a slight smile.

Jester suddenly lost his smile and shook his head. "There are other troopers who wouldn't… appreciate it, sir. Other troopers who don't consider me part of the 212th. Not yet." His voice firmed. "They will," he promised then his voice softened, "but not yet."

Wooley was silent for a moment as his fingers tapped on the table. "Do troopers run this army? Or is it run by rank?

"Rank, sir."

Wooley touched the sergeant's mark on his cuff. "You're 212th, trooper. You're one of my squad and you _will_ seam your armor in 212th gold."

Wooley's order was firm and loud enough to be heard by nearby troopers. Jester stood and saluted.

"Yes, sir." He answered Wooley's question. "This afternoon, sir."

Sergeant Wooley gave a nod, stood and turned from the table; but not before giving Jester a quick wink and an upturn of the corners of his lips.

It only made sense. Sergeant Wooley was Commander Cody's second in command. While the Commander may not have been able to tell Wooley everything; he would certainly trust him with as much as he could tell. He could tell him to treat Jester fairly, he could probably… hint. Both Cody and Captain Rex had taken a few moments to commend him on his actions the night Slick's treason had been discovered. Perhaps Commander Cody had told the sergeant that Jester had done something to apprehend Slick.

As Jester was obtaining the paint from supply, Wooley sent him the location and door code of his new barracks along with the names of the rest of the squad. Coop, Tig, Arrow, Core, Pell, Ori, Kad and two shinies fresh from Kamino.

As Jester moved from the barracks they'd put him in after that night, he ran through his mind what he knew about the other troopers in the squad. The new guys were unknown; they'd have no notions of him as a member of Slick's squad. Core and Pell were brothers, Pell the quiet one and Core knew jokes. Coop was always offering options and alternatives while Tig had an explosive temper that was quick to anger but just as easily forgotten. Arrow was quiet and Jester knew almost nothing about him except that both Chopper and Sketch separately agreed he was the best at hand-to-hand they'd ever met. Kad and Ori, Jester knew only by name but they sounded as though they'd taken the Mandalorian tradition to heart with names of 'saber' and 'superlative'.

He paused at the door, his gear bag and blaster slung over his shoulder and a small jar of yellow paint in his hand.

His new squad. His new brothers. A new beginning.

He'd do his best; he'd always done his best but he was, hopefully, wiser now. Jester took a deep breath then released it through his mouth.

Jester keyed in the code and strode into the barracks. It was mostly empty; only Core, Tig and Kad were there. All three glanced over to see who it was. Jester gave each man a nod as he moved toward the one empty bunk, setting his helmet in the corresponding helmet lock by the door.

"Is Sergeant Wooley in?" he asked with a nod toward the sergeant's office as he set his gear bag on the bunk.

"He's out for the moment; checking the camp with the Commander." That was Tig and his tone was hesitant and reserved, not welcoming but not disgusted either. It was obvious he knew who Jester was but equally obvious that he wasn't going to let rumors make up his mind.

"_Aruetyc_."

It was a hissed whisper and Jester turned to face Kad.

"I won't call one-on-one for that because I understand what you must think," Jester began, "but I'm no traitor."

Jester turned back to setting his gear in its proper place, setting the yellow paint on the small shelf of his bunk. His heart sank in heavy despair as he realized that being in Wooley's squad would be as hard as being in Slick's had been.

_I can do this_, he told himself again. _I chose to do this. Because I am not a traitor._

* * *

Another chapter of Jester...

As always, updates will be infrequent and unscheduled. In the meantime, you might want to go read Ando (a sequel to "Whatever Happened to Captain Rex) which I contribute to.'


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